Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
She doesn’t reach for it. Instead, she speaks, voice shaky but holding. “I’m sorry about everything,” she says, her tone direct. “About last night. The auction. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t think it would go that far. I thought maybe…” Her words taper off, vanishing into the hiss of the pan and the purr of the espresso machine.
I lean back against the counter, arms folded. “You thought what, Kayleigh?”
She drags her thumb along the red mark at her wrist. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to lose you. Or, I mean, I didn’t want someone else to…” She stops again, closes her eyes for a second, then forces herself to look at me. “I shouldn’t have done it. You were put in a bad situation.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“You mean, a bad situation because I had to be auctioned off, or a bad situation because I ended up purchasing myself?”
She giggles a little, the sound wrenching my heart.
“Both I guess,” she says with a soft smile. “I don’t know, I didn’t think of it that way.”
I chuckle, the tension breaking.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I was going to cut a check to the charity anyway. Seven figures to make their eyes pop. No harm, no foul, they’re just getting their money a little sooner.”
She swallows. Her eyes linger on my chest, then dart away, fix on the plate. She doesn’t touch it.
I pour two coffees, black, and set one in front of her. “But,” I say, “you still owe me.”
She picks up the cup with both hands, like she needs to steady herself. “Yes of course, I know,” she asks, and her voice is almost steady this time. “I’m eternally grateful to you, Trevor.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“Are you though? Because you know, this is the second time I’ve saved your ass. I had to bail you out of jail not so long ago,” I remind her. “And now, I’ve paid a million dollars, just so you can save face.”
She flinches, just a fraction, but it’s enough. But then she straightens.
“But you just said you were going to donate a million dollars to them anyways,” she manages. “So why does it matter?”
“It matters,” I shrug. “Because I want it to matter, and now, you need to do your part.”
Kayleigh nods slowly.
“Of course. I’ll do whatever you want,” she states in a voice that’s mostly steady.
I raise an eyebrow at her for the umpteenth time.
“Really? Anything I want? After I just chained you to the bed? That’s quite a statement, I have to say.”
She lets out a small exasperated huff of breath.
“Okay, not anything, but you know what I mean.”
I smile like the asshole I am.
I wait a full ten seconds before I speak. I want her to squirm. I want her to simmer. Then, I put my cup down and look at her, really look. The dress is tight at her chest, barely holding the weight of her tits. Her legs are bare under the counter, knees pressed together, thighs turned inward. She looks so small, so breakable, and yet I know what she’s capable of when cornered.
“Great, because you’re going to be my fuckdoll,” I say, low and casual. “No more games. No more princess shit. Just you and me, no holds barred.”
She gasps, the sound thin and raw. Her hands grip the rim of the coffee cup so hard I think it might shatter. “What—what do you mean? You must be joking. That’s sick.”
I smile, slow and patient, like I’m talking to a child. “No, it’s not sick, and it’s not a joke. You’re going to be my go-to for sex on demand, Kayleigh. Like those Japanese sex dolls you see on the internet, the ones with the perfect bodies and the blank faces, with their mouths in a perpetual “O.” Think of yourself as a female body for me to use as I see fit, whenever I see fit.” I let that sink in, watch her eyes widen as she almost pants with surprise.
“But—but—” She fumbles, trying to pull the thread of her own argument together. “In our last conversation, you said that we shouldn’t be together. That it was wrong. That I was too young, that we’re siblings, that we can’t go there—”
“That was before you made me spend a million dollars to keep you out of trouble,” I say. “That was before you decided you were willing to be bought.” I shrug, sip my coffee. “Now, you’re my property. And I’m going to use you whichever way I want.”
She stares at me, the color rising slow in her cheeks. Her breathing is shallow, uneven. “You can’t just—”
I cut her off. “I can. And I will. Unless you want to pay back the money yourself, which is always an option. You can get three jobs, move back in with our parents, and prostitute yourself to the gods of capitalism. Or you can do what I say, here, in my house, and enjoy the perks. Your own room. Gourmet food. This view. All you have to do is obey. Simple.”